


The Yule Ball

by TheLonelyJournalKeeper



Series: Ni No Kuni Hogwarts AU [2]
Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch, Ni no Kuni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Backstory, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bickering, Complicated Relationships, Daddy Issues, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Gift Fic, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Holidays, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, POV Third Person Omniscient, School Dances, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyJournalKeeper/pseuds/TheLonelyJournalKeeper
Summary: With the Yule Ball coming up, Esther has to find someone older than her if she wants to go. Fortunately for her, she has someone in mind. On the other hand, it's Swaine.





	

The whole castle was in a state of high excitement. For one thing, it was the holidays which always created some cheer, but for another the Triwizard Tournament was being held that year and so, by extension, was the Yule Ball. 

Naturally this caused a lot of excitement and some nervousness and some irritation. To put it simply, emotions were running high. 

Swaine generally tried to stay out of such things. He wasn’t really planning on attending. It wasn’t really his thing. He’d have to wear nice clothes and make himself presentable only to have nothing very interesting happen and most likely end up making awkward conversation with someone he only half-knew. 

And there was the small matter of not having a date. He really didn’t have anyone he wanted to ask or at least not anyone he had the nerve to and the chances anyone was going to ask him were low to say the least.

Really, he was fine with not going. 

It was a shame his friend Oliver would be attending though. That would leave him friendless in the common room. Oliver was a Champion for the Tournament (a fact Swaine thought was just like him and his ability to get involved in things not concerning him) and so had to attend. Fortunately, he was attending with Myrtle. This did not surprise Swaine in the slightest as the two had had a strong friendship/crush thing going on for some time now. 

With the two of them going, that meant Swaine had about two more friends to account for. One of them was his brother Marcassin who Swaine felt quite certain would be going. He would have no problem finding a date if he wished and the ball seemed like the sort of thing he would enjoy. So stiff and insincere and classy. All style, no substance. 

Not that he much begrudged his brother this fact. It just wasn’t his scene. 

Perhaps he would get a lot of homework done while the ball was going on. 

Marcassin going left Esther as the only one of his immediate acquaintances unaccounted for. 

Though she was slightly too young to be attending, this didn’t particularly make any difference as things had been awkward between the two of them of late. 

More awkward than usual in any case. There had always been an odd sort of tension between the two of them, but after an incident involving the password to the Slytherin dormitories and a kiss, things had gotten decidedly more tense. 

Swaine for his part was trying to pretend the whole incident hadn’t happened and Esther seemed to be doing the same. Swaine, quite frankly, had no idea what had happened between the two of them and feared trying to riddle it out would result in an answer he would not like. 

That the mixed emotions of amusement and respect and annoyance and affection he felt towards her would turn out to be something more. 

Esther on the other hand wanted to attend the ball. It sounded rather fantastic and she hated feeling left out knowing most of her friends would likely to attending. 

The idea of dressing up and dancing in a beautifully decorated hall full of interesting people appealed to her greatly.

There was only the matter of how she could attend that troubled her. 

She could only think of one solution. 

So she confronted Swaine in the hallway one evening with a look of steely determination on her face. 

He was immediately taken aback upon seeing her. “Erm hi Esther.” 

“Hi Swaine.” She took a deep breath, looking him straight in the eye. “I need you to take me to the Yule Ball.” 

He froze. “You….what?” He had not been expecting this. 

Esther sighed, fighting back an uncalled for blush. “I need you to take me to the Yule Ball.” 

“What the he-“ Swaine started, but she interrupted him before he could finish. 

“Unfortunately, you’re the only friend I have who was invited and not already taken and I really want to go.” 

Swaine crossed his arms, rather thinking this was all some elaborate trick. “What if I’m already going with someone?” 

Esther raised an eyebrow, not believing him. “Are you, Swaine?” 

“Well no.” He admitted. “But I might have!” 

She smirked. “I didn’t think so.” 

Swaine scowled. “Oi! That was a bit rude!” 

“I’m still waiting on an answer,” Esther prompted. 

He continued scowling at her for a few moments despite knowing what his answer would be. He enjoyed seeing her on edge as she was quite unaware of the fact that he really couldn’t deny her this. She scowled back at him before he put on a tone of resignation and sighed, “If you insist.” 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” She scoffed. “You’re getting something out of this too, you idiot.” 

“Oh yeah?” He said, knowing quite well what he would be getting out of this arrangement. Time with the horribly confusing girl in front of him. And yet he still couldn’t resist her offer. Maybe it was those tantalizingly mixed feelings that drew him to her. Maybe he appreciated the fact that she’d actually asked him out (even if it was for her own gain). It was a bold feat, really. The girl had a lot of nerve. 

“You don’t have to show up at the ball alone.” The blonde smirked. 

“Hmmph,” He said. “That was never going to happen.” He would’ve just not gone. 

“Hmmph.” Esther looked away from him. His damn cocky tone. It did strange things to her. She just figured those strange things were wanting to punch him in the face, but their last extended encounter had ended somewhat differently. 

Better make her intentions clear. She was definitely not interested in that grubby, annoying, older boy with his hair always a mess and rips in his robes and that kind of sexy stubble he always got because he was too lazy to shave… 

What was she thinking about? Oh yeah. Making her intentions clear. 

She jabbed a finger towards his chest. He was about a head taller than her, but she looked up at him with her most blazing stare. 

“Don’t you get any ideas especially after that little incident.” Esther began. She was relieved to sound confident while inside she was a bit more…concerned.

Warning bells shot off in Swaine’s head. I thought we were ignoring that incident, he thought. 

“We’re just going as friends. This means nothing.” She said, firmly. This means nothing, she repeated to herself. 

“Of course!” Swaine blustered. He felt a pang of something (surely not hurt, offense perhaps?) at the emphatic statement. “Like it would _mean_ anything. That would just be ridiculous.” 

“Completely,” She agreed, smothering a pang of her own. “This is just a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

“Mutually beneficial? That’s a bit posh, isn’t it?” 

“Oh shove it, Swaine. Like you’d know anything about being that.” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Oh damn!” She flushed. “Okay, maybe you would know something about being ‘posh’, but you can still shove it.” 

“Of course,” He smirked, feeling that he’d won that round though it was something of a hollow victory as he didn’t like using his class to his advantage even for something as small and petty as a verbal sparring match with Esther. 

“Hmmph,” Esther said again, infusing the syllable with as much feigned disdain as she could manage. “Well I’ll meet you by the statue near the Great Hall shortly before the Ball starts. Wear something nice for a change. I’m not going to the Ball with you looking like some vagabond.” 

She turned around and marched off, unable to hold back a smirk. 

“Some vagabond?” He called at her retreating form. “That’s very rude!” 

* * *

As the Yule Ball grew nearer still, the excitement reached a fever pitch even amongst those who would not be attending. The excitement was infectious.

Down in the Slytherin dormitories, it was a flurry of activity as they prepared for the Ball which would be taking place that very evening. 

Swaine was in a state of relative indifference, sequestered in a corner watching the ongoings with some amusement. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal. Who cared what he looked like? 

He was just going to be attending with Esther which, as per their agreement, meant nothing. Really, he was just doing her a favor so why should he have to get all dressed up? 

He’d had enough of maintaining appearances. 

But still…he was going with _Esther._ Wouldn’t she be surprised if he turned up looking half-decent? She probably expected him to ignore her demand to spite her! Well she wasn’t going to get that!

So maybe he did care. Just a little bit. 

He cared enough to run a comb through his hair (to no visible effect) and wear the nice set of dress robes he had for some reason. He wasn’t really sure where he’d gotten them from as given his way he wouldn’t have a place to wear them. Perhaps some appearance-caring person had given them to him. 

In any case, they fit okay and looked alright. They were in a pleasant shade of dark green which had always been his favorite color even before being sorted into Slytherin. 

He even shaved off the scruff he’d been accumulating which he thought he deserved points for. 

Then he was waiting impatiently for Oliver who bounded over to him a few moments later dressed in a cheerful shade of red. 

“Are you ready to go, Swaine?” Oliver asked. 

“I was ready several minutes ago,” Swaine replied, unable to repress a smile. 

“Okay then. Let’s go.” 

And so they set out for the Ball. 

The hallways were decorated beautifully and contained many students and some teachers all dressed in finery and walking in the same direction. So they let themselves be swept along by the current before extricating themselves from it to meet Esther and Myrtle in front of the statue. 

Though they looked quite similar, Swaine had no difficulty telling who was who and that was when his brain stopped functioning. 

Esther had her long blonde hair in an elegant up-do, a few strands deliberately escaping to frame her face. Her lips were coated in luscious red lipstick and curved in a cheerful smile. Her blue eyes were light with that same happiness and she was dressed in a lovely shade of lavender. Swaine would’ve thought she’d wear pink and while that would’ve worked, the pale purple provided a certain subtle charm. The dress robe was made of a silky, almost shimmery material and her whole appearance exuded elegance. 

In other words, she looked beautiful. Swaine was rather knocked for a loop, but he tried not to let it show as the group exchanged greetings.

Oliver was having no such problems as he smilingly complimented Myrtle who was looking lovely in sky blue.

Meanwhile Esther was in a similar situation as she glanced at her date out of the corner of her eye. Try as she might, she could not deny how attractive he looked. It seemed he’d actually done as she’d asked and dressed up to some degree. She scowled at him, why she wasn’t sure. 

Unfortunately he caught her looking and smirked. “Not bad for some vagabond, eh?” 

She looked away from him, trying not to blush. “I suppose.” She said, loftily. 

Swaine was secretly surprised by this response, having expected a biting retort. He was equally surprised to find himself pleased at not having received one. 

“Yeah well,” He prayed he wouldn’t trip over his own words. “You look nice too. For a stuck-up loudmouth, of course.” 

“Stuck-up loudmouth? Is that the best you’ve got?” Esther replied though her heart, not with the rest of the program, skipped a beat. _You look nice too._

“Oh I’ve got plenty more words for you.” He assured her. It was true, though what she didn’t know and what Swaine was ignoring was that not all of them were insults. 

Myrtle, who was standing beside Oliver, giggled and nudged him. “They seem to be getting along. I’m glad they decided to go together.” 

Oliver nodded. “It’s more fun when we’re all here.” 

The Yule Ball officially began a moment later. As Oliver was a Champion, he and Myrtle were among the first through the doors. Esther and Swaine followed a few moments later as the rest of the ball-goers surged through the doors and into the hall. 

The Great Hall looked incredible. They’d gone all out this year with trees and snow and garlands, sparing no expense. A band played music Swaine dimly recognized as a waltz. 

Esther ooh-ed in appreciation. “It looks amazing. So festive.” 

“Uh yeah.” Swaine agreed, eyes lingering on the girl beside him rather than the decorations. “Looks great.” 

He allowed his mind to drift momentarily and regretted it when the memory of the kiss they’d shared resurfaced. He promptly redirected his thoughts away from it, of course. It wasn’t like this was romantic or anything. Esther had made it perfectly clear this was—what was it? A mutually beneficial arrangement. 

Really, Swaine was completely fine with that. 

So he was knocked for another loop when Esther asked for a dance. 

Her exact words were, “Shall we?” with a nod towards the dance floor. Many couples were whirling about on it, in bright splotches of color. Swaine’s eyes sought out a pairing of red and blue, dancing with more enthusiasm than grace. 

“Eh?” He asked. 

Esther rolled her eyes. “Dance. This _is_ a ball, Swaine. That _is_ what you traditionally do at balls.” 

“I know that,” He said, crossly. “I just figured you came here to seek out a dance with well…I dunno, do I?” Anybody other than him, he thought. 

“True, but it’s customary,” She said. “Since we’re attending together we have to share at least one dance before we trade partners with anybody else, right? Can’t you dance?” She didn’t know why she was so insistent. 

“I suppose so,” He said with more resignation than he felt. “And yes, I bloody well can dance, but that doesn’t mean I want to.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before agreeing to come to a ball, Swaine.” She chided before seizing him by the hand and tugging him out onto the dance floor. 

Feigning a sigh, he placed one hand on her waist with a featherlight touch and grabbed her hand with the other. Involuntarily, the steps to a waltz came back to him and he lead her through them with ease. Swaine didn’t think she’d waltzed before but she moved with the easy grace that came naturally to her. She always had a spring in her step. 

Esther’s eyes widened. He was good at dancing. Very good in fact. She hadn’t expected that though she couldn’t say it upset her. Still, she was surprised. It seemed so unlike him. 

“Swaine!” She said. 

“What?” He sounded annoyed. “I suppose you wanted to lead or something.” 

She rolled her eyes. “No, not that.” In fact, their dancing was going very smoothly with him leading. “I just…didn’t expect you to be so good at dancing.” 

“Why’s that so surprising?” He raised an eyebrow, daring her to continue. He was full of surprises. She didn’t know him that well.

“Well It just…doesn’t seem like you.” She raised her chin, daring him back. 

“You don’t know me that well.” He replied, echoing his thoughts from earlier. “Besides, you wouldn’t be surprised if Marcassin could dance well.” He added, feeling the leap in logic made sense.

For some reason, it irked him that she didn’t think he was the sort to dance well. Lord only knew why as he didn’t think of himself as that sort either. As a matter of fact, he’d deliberately distanced himself from that sort of persona. 

“Yeah,” She said, understanding what he meant. “But you’re…” She paused. He was….many, many things. He was easier to talk to. He had a better sense of humor. He was (in her opinion) better-looking. She much preferred his rough around the edges look than his brother’s more polished appearance, but she would never say such a thing out loud. “Not like him at all.” She finished lamely.

Swaine frowned. “Obviously.” He said, with more bite than he’d intended. He sounded almost bitter. “What’s your point?” 

He damn well knew how different he was from his brother. He got the reminder every time he returned home. Sometimes he even got the reminder from himself. 

Marcassin was extremely skilled at magic. He was the top of his class, able to easily master some of the most difficult spells and cast them nonverbally, something Swaine couldn’t do despite being a few years ahead. Marcassin was their father’s pride and joy.

Swaine was well…far from the top of his class if he was honest, which he was loath to be. It was a struggle to learn each new spell and learning to cast nonverbally seemed far out of his reach. Magic simply did not come as easily to him as he felt it should have. He had been nearly ten years old before he started exhibiting signs of magic. 

Marcassin was polite and well-spoken. 

Swaine was rude and sometimes crass. 

Marcassin always looked neat and handsome.

Swaine, well he’d always established how much (or rather how little) effort he put into his appearance. 

Marcassin was a natural leader and well-liked. 

Swaine preferred to remain in the background and had fewer friends. 

And really, Swaine was alright with this. He liked who he was (most of the time) and he even liked who Marcassin was. 

He just wished his father liked who he was. 

So he did not take kindly to a reminder of how far from the perfect son he was. It was reopening old wounds or maybe rubbing salt in fresh ones. 

“Oh forget it.” Esther huffed. Her face was red. Swaine assumed it was from anger, but in truth, it was embarrassment at the thoughts she’d been thinking and…maybe a little bit of anger at herself for thinking them. “You’re just being difficult.” 

“No, I’m not!” He said, anger flaring. “You’re the difficult one.” 

“No, you are.” Esther shot back. 

Swaine scowled at her. “Hmmph.” He said, looking away and cutting off what would otherwise have turned into a game of “No, you are!” lasting the entirety of the ball. 

“Hmmph.” Esther said back, also looking away from him and scowling. It would be harder to stay mad at him if she kept looking. 

Through this whole argument, their dancing did not falter. They continued moving with an easiness that surprised both of them. It felt startlingly natural for them to be dancing. 

It seemed this was not just a feeling as heads glanced their way, impressed by their skill. 

They both noticed this though they did not comment on it, too busy trying to hold onto their anger. 

Swaine just assumed they were wondering what he was doing dancing with a girl like Esther while Esther took it in her stride and put more focus into her dancing.

Swaine reluctantly went along with it, stepping up his game by leading her into a spin. 

A smile tugged at her lips. This was the sort of thing she’d been imagining when she thought of dancing at a ball. She had to admit it was fun even if she hadn’t been thinking of Swaine when she thought of a dance partner. 

A few beats later, Swaine broke the silence. “We—Marcassin and I—both took lessons when we were younger. It’s some stupid, upper-class, pureblood thing.” He wore an expression of great distaste as he spoke. “I guess it’s for formal occasions like this.” 

“Really?” Esther said, surprised. 

Swaine shrugged, kind of regretting mentioning it. At least, Esther wasn’t scowling anymore. “Told you I knew about posh. You’ve never met my family aside from Marcassin. If you had, it would make sense.” 

Why was he still talking? He was rapidly approaching dangerous waters. Mission abort. Mission abort. 

Esther did not heed his silent warning. “You really don’t get along well with them, do you?” 

“No,” He said, shortly. His tone was curt, warning. 

Again, Esther ignored his warning. 

“You always stick around during the holidays as well, don’t you?” Esther couldn’t deny her curiosity. She knew Marcassin always returned home. 

“Someone has to keep an eye on Oliver.” Swaine replied. Oliver’s mother had died shortly before Oliver came to Hogwarts and he didn’t know who his father was, whether he was alive or dead, a muggle or a wizard, so he stayed during the holidays. 

Even if Oliver didn’t though, Swaine would’ve anyways. Spending the summer back at his family’s manor was always…unpleasant enough. He would spare himself the experience over the holidays. 

Esther (mistakenly) took Swaine’s multi-syllabic reply as permission to keep talking and did so, asking a question that had been on her mind for a few days now.

“Is it true your name’s really Gascon?” 

“Who the hell told you that?!” Swaine had not expected to hear that. He did not want to hear that name. He had left it behind for a reason and whoever’s spreading rumors is gonna pay, he thought.

Esther frowned at his vehement reaction, a little bit concerned, a little bit startled. “Your brother actually.” She replied. “I saw him after Charms one day.” 

Swaine growled, irritably. “And why was my name the topic of conversation?” 

“I was asking if you were already taking someone to the ball.” Esther said, a bit put out by the way he was acting. She really didn’t know why he was so upset. “I figured he would know and I’d rather spare myself the pain of asking you if possible.” 

That last bit was a bit harsher than I intended, she realized. She’d just been trying not to upset their status quo. 

Fortunately, Swaine understood that. Insults, gibes, and quips were a language he spoke well. 

“Gee thanks.” He said, sarcastically. “Hold on, so you didn’t just assume I wouldn’t have a partner!” He looked triumphant, like he’d gotten her to admit some great secret. 

Esther didn’t think it was that great of a secret that she didn’t think as lowly of him as she acted, but she let him have his moment. “No,” She admitted. “Despite the fact that you clearly don’t care about your looks, you’re actually not bad-looking. There was a chance some girl had managed to see past your personality and ask you.” She smirked, confident she’d thrown enough insults in there that he would miss the backhanded compliment. 

He didn’t. Swaine’s head was reeling from that monster of a statement, but he managed to ignore all the insults and pick out the important part. _Not bad-looking._ That could almost be construed as a compliment. It was better than a lofty _I suppose._

He smirked back at her. “Wow, Esther. There was almost a compliment in there somewhere.” 

“You’re hearing things.” She told him. 

“I heard ‘not bad-looking.’” Still smirking. 

“That’s not a compliment.” She said, indignantly. 

“It wasn’t an insult. Wait, wait, forget all that.” Swaine shook himself out of his Esther-induced daze. “And Marcassin said my other name because? Exactly how mad at him should I be?” 

“I don’t know. I was confused too. I think it was just an accident.” Esther shrugged, curious as to why he was so mad. 

“Yeah? Well he better not do it again.” Swaine was all talk. Truthfully, Marcassin was one of the people who meant the most to him. 

“So why did—?” 

“Oh look the song is finally over.” Swaine interrupted her, knowing how that question ended and not liking it one bit. “You can go dance with somebody else or whatever you came here to do.” 

She blinked, like she was coming out of a trance. “Actually I think that was two dances. That was too long to be just one.”

They unlatched their hands and arms retreated, feeling a bit out of it as they stopped dancing. They’d gotten into a good rhythm. 

“Hey, you interrupted me.” Esther said. “Why’d you change your name?” 

He really didn’t want to answer that question so he shrugged. “No good reason. It’s not a particularly good story.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. It was a very interesting and long story, but not a good one. Very far from a happy memory. 

Esther didn’t believe him. “Then why don’t you tell it to me?” 

“I’d rather not.” He said, acidly. 

“Why not?” Esther badgered, stubbornly ignoring his biting tone. 

“Just drop it, okay?!” He snapped. Then immediately cursed himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. 

Esther jolted. “Fine.” She frowned. “Okay. Well, let’s go see what Oliver and Myrtle are doing.” 

“Probably still dancing.” Swaine said. “That is what you’re supposed to do at a ball.” A moment’s pause. “Also it’s surprisingly addicting.” 

Esther laughed. “Yeah, well let’s go see.” 

Swaine shrugged. “Sure.” He didn’t really have anything better to do. 

Esther grabbed his hand so as not to lose him in the crowd and forged through the throngs of people. Despite her probing questions, Swaine couldn’t help thinking there were definitely worse ways to spend his night. Esther’s hair was shimmering gold under the lights. Her hand was soft in his. Better music had started playing. 

Of course. That meant things were about to go wrong though neither of them knew it yet. 

They located their friends were relative ease. Swaine was correct as they were both still dancing. 

In fact, they appeared to be having a wonderful time, talking happily. 

Esther smiled. “They look like they’re having fun.” That made her happy. 

“Yeah.” Swaine agreed, unsurprised and somewhat amused. 

“Let’s get closer,” Esther said. “I want to hear what they’re talking about.” 

“You Gryffindors always act like you’re so noble, but you’re not above eavesdropping?” Swaine smirked, but he was following her regardless. 

She swatted him lightly. “Like you’ve got any room to talk.” 

“Oi! I’m no eavesdropper.” He complained. 

“Oh yeah? How about that one time-“ 

“That was an acci-“ He stopped, abruptly. Their path was blocked by a boy Swaine recognized as a Gryffindor though he didn’t know a name. Esther greeted him by a name he didn’t catch, confirming this theory. 

“Hey Esther,” said the boy. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought if you wanted to go to the ball, you would’ve accepted when I asked you.” 

Esther was faintly repulsed by the memory. She’d seen this boy and his friends around the common room and spoken to them on occasion. They were not the sort of people she usually hung around with. They were brave to the point of recklessness, arrogant, and impulsive and they could usually be found pulling mean-spirited jokes on younger students. So she’d turned the boy down flat.

“Well I appreciated the offer.” She said in an icy tone that said no such thing. “But I found someone else.” 

Swaine meanwhile, not knowing much about the boys in question, was surprised to hear she’d turned them down and gone with him instead. 

“How about a dance to make up for it?” The boy asked, plainly not listening. 

Esther shook her head in disgust. “Weren’t you listening? I’m here with someone else.” 

“So? You can dance with someone else.” 

“I’d rather not.” She pursed her lips and grabbed Swaine’s hand again. “Come on, Swaine. Let’s go talk to someone else.” 

“Whoa, you’re here with this guy?” The boy turned his gaze towards Swaine for the first time and put out an arm to block Esther from leaving. 

“Whaddya mean _this guy_?” Swaine said, indignantly. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t even met. I’d remember meeting someone as foul-tempered as you.” 

Esther snickered. It was kind of nice to see Swaine’s wit turned towards someone else. 

“Oh we don’t need to have met. You’re a Slytherin. They’re all the same. I’ve seen you hanging around with the Champion, Oliver. Besides, all I have to do is look at you to tell you’re not good enough for Esther.” 

Swaine opened his mouth to fire a retort back but Esther spoke first. 

“Really now?” She said. “Then where does that leave you? Unworthy to even speak to me?” 

The boy did not like that at all. 

Their argument escalated quickly, growing in volume and anger and rapier wit. Perhaps a teacher would’ve broken up the fight and punished them soundly, but fortunately someone else noticed what was going on first. 

Oliver and Myrtle noticed something was wrong and raced over to see what was the matter. 

Though it was not evidently clear what was going on, they could tell this argument would lead nowhere good and dragged their friends away. 

“I can’t leave you two alone for one evening, can I?” Oliver said. 

“That wasn’t our fault!” Swaine protested. 

“Yeah!” Esther agreed. “He started it! We were getting along fine!” 

“You guys were?” 

“Well sure. We don’t argue all the time.” 

“It’s like I was saying, Oliver.” Myrtle nudged him. “It’s a game!” 

“A game?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Now hold on, what do you mean by game?” 

The night passed quickly as the group found a seemingly inexhaustible amount of things to talk (or sometimes bicker) about. 

Swaine was surprised Esther didn’t dance with anyone else, but she didn’t feel like it. Their argument with the Gryffindor boy had set off her stubborn streak. 

Swaine thought she was just being contrary but defensive was closer. 

When Oliver and Myrtle shared another dance Esther and Swaine did too. 

Swaine didn’t bother to complain (much), too scared to upset whatever balance had been achieved. He found he enjoyed their dances. 

Esther did too which was why she kept insisting on them in part. When he’d asked (in that sarcastic way of his), she came up with the excuse that she was proving a point to the boy from earlier which led to a conversation about the house rivalries. 

This proved to be quite an interesting topic and, curiously enough, one they were in agreement on. 

“I love a good friendly rivalry, but some people take things way too far.” 

Swaine nodded. “But that’s just human nature, isn’t it?” 

“You think so?” 

“Sure. There are always going to be people who take things way too far.” 

“How very cynical of you.” 

“Would you expect anything less from me?” 

She laughed. “No, I really wouldn’t.” 

The music swelled and he gave her a spin, smirking at her startled yelp. 

“Good, because you’re not getting it.” 

“I guess I’ll have to be optimistic enough for the both of us then.” 

“Heh. I think Oliver’s got us covered.” 

“Ha! Do you think he and Myrtle will ever get together?” 

“Heh. Maybe in like three years, they’ll figure it out.” 

“They’re not that oblivious. I mean, they went to the Ball together.” 

There was a brief silence. 

“Not like that means anything.” 

“Can definitely be a platonic gesture.” 

Before they knew it, the evening was nearly over. 

They were taking a break from dancing to drink some punch when Esther suddenly said, “Thanks.” 

“Hm?” Swaine replied, having been consumed in his thoughts. “What for?” 

“For taking me here. You didn’t have to and it was… nice of you. I had a lot of fun.” She smiled prettily.

“Yeah well…” Swaine mumbled. “I did too.” The night had really been far from the chore he half-expected it to be. 

“Swaine?”

“Yeah?” 

“Look up.” 

Confused, he did so…and jumped about a foot in the air. 

Mistletoe. That damned plant that sprung up around the holidays. 

“What the he-“ He started to back away in panic. 

Too slow. 

Esther grabbed the front of his dark green dress robes and pulled him into a searing kiss that fried every single one of his brain cells. 

Then she flitted away, lavender dress swishing. “Have a good evening, Swaine!” She grinned, not regretting her impulsive decision in the slightest. It was just a silly holiday tradition, of course. It meant nothing. 

All Swaine could think was, we really need to stop doing this. 

Or maybe they should do it more often.


End file.
